Loveless
by Chameleon Eyes
Summary: Modern AU: Zelda's life is flipped upside down when she moves from quiet nobody to Crown Princess. Clueless, inept and socially awkward, it takes more than the world's greatest advisor to whip her into royalty. On top of all that, she still continues her studies in secret. If anyone were to find out that she were royalty—well, that would be bad publicity! Zelink! SAVED FROM DELETE!
1. Chapter 1: Hylia's Eye

A/N: The rewrite of _Loveless_ has finally arrived! I'm sorry for writing nine chapters and then deleting it, but I _really_ needed to restart it. I hate how Ilia is a super human, Link is too happy, and Zelda too depressing. And plus I didn't do any planning so everything was just a huge mess. I couldn't progress any further due to writer's block. So without further ado, here is the new _Loveless_ with a similar premise.

Before you begin I just want to point out that this Hyrule, Zelda and Link are based on _Twilight Princess_. The geography is different since it's a modern alternate universe.

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_**Loveless**  
_

_by_ _Chameleon Eyes_

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**~ 1 ~**

**Hylia's Eye**

**~ o ~**

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My parents look at me with a solemn expression.

We're in the big fancy living room saved for entertaining the big wigs. And, on occasion, this is the room to share life-altering news. It always feels as if my parents conspire against me —their only daughter. Of course parents always discuss important family matters amongst themselves before sharing with their children. And since I have no siblings, it's usually me against them in times like this.

"Are you pregnant?" I ask Mom, the hope in my voice rising. I've always wanted a younger sibling.

"No, Zel," she replies.

Dad shakes his head. He usually falls silent whenever he has to share something devastating. This minor observation sends me into a panic. If it's not that, does that mean one of them has a terminal illness of some sort? That would explain the sudden doctor visits Dad went to last week!

"I don't know how to tell you this," Mom begins.

Oh no! Is it a divorce? They've been arguing a lot lately. But then again, they're a super couple together. They couldn't possibly split up.

Trying to calm down, I gaze at the surroundings. It's a neat psychology trick Dad taught me in times of anxiety. By focusing on your surroundings, you ease the mind from within.

Golden framed windows align the walls, illuminating the setting sun filtering through the large French windows to our right. There's a slight summer breeze blowing the transparent curtains. I watch as they rise and fall and catch myself staring into the picturesque scenery of green mountains and a serene body of water. It's like I'm staring into some large fancy painting at a museum. The illusion almost fools me since everything in the window is so still, until I catch a glimpse of a sailboat floating gently on the water. Its movement is subtle, but it's enough for me to cast my attention elsewhere instead of my racing thoughts.

"Can—can you just tell me?" I stutter uncontrollably. I dislike any sort of surprise or suspense.

"We're moving," Mom says finally. "Now, we were unsure how this would affect you since you've spent your whole life in Hylia…" she trails off.

Excited, I cut her off and leap off the couch. "Moving?!"

The movement startles them. At first they think I'm sad, or even worse, angry. But I grin to reassure them that everything is fine and add, "This is _good _news!"

"'Good' news?" Dad asks, confused. He looks at Mom for an answer.

"What? Did you think I'd cry over this?" I reply.

"Well, yes—"

"This is amazing! A new start, a new life!" I gather both into my arms. Planting each a kiss on the cheek, I grin wider than I thought possible. "Thanks."

"What about your friends?" Mom says. "Won't you miss them?"

"_Mom,"_ I plead. I hate discussing this certain topic of friends…mainly because I'm friend_less_. "All those old friends? Yeah. I haven't talked to them since kindergarten."

"What are you talking about? I invited Lysa and Roza for tea last week."

"Did they come?"

"No…"

"Yeah. They probably think I'm a loser since my mom invited them to tea for me," I scoff.

_"Zelda!" _she cries, then crosses her arms and looks at the wall. "Everyone knows _I'm _the cool Mom."

"Cooler than most moms." I giggle because it's true. Who else has a world renowned King's advisor as a Mom? Not Lysa _or _Roza!

"I'm gonna go pack my stuff," I proclaim suddenly, rushing up the large spiral staircase.

"We're not moving until next week," Dad calls.

I groan. One more week of staying in Hylia? That's like a nightmare to me! Chances of running into my classmates who _a)_ don't even know I exist or _b) _hate me with a burning passion are high. Very, very, _very _high. I definitely do not want to see Lysa's smirk or hear Roza's high pitched squeal ever again. I'll most likely run into them practically every day for the next week.

Only the very rich or the extremely famous get to live here. And, as a consequence, most of the famous actors, doctors, lawyers, singers and producers' kids are all snobby and spoiled. I should know because I went to school with them since I was four.

I don't know why I was the victim of bullying. I wasn't ugly or anything. I didn't have a huge flaw on me like most stereotypical bully victims. I wasn't the fat kid or the kid with the glasses or the kid with the really bad acne. Nor was I the stereotypical weakling. I was just me.

At first I became friends with the popular girls. I was nice to them and gave them everything they wanted. A new doll? Wish granted! Makeup their parents didn't buy for them? I got my parents to buy it and _I_ gave it to them!

I'd always give and they'd always take. They didn't do anything for me. And _that's_ when I realized they were using me.

"Do you want to go see _Legend of Zelda _on Friday?" I asked one day. We were in my bedroom having tea and gossiping about how Jennifer liked Jeremy, the best lip gloss, and what to wear for the last day of school. Well, it was those two who discussed those things. I was off to the side, brushing my doll's hair quietly.

"_Ew!_ A fantasy movie? Only nerds watch that," Roza spat while brushing Lysa's hair. "You probably only want to watch it because it has your name in the title. So selfish." She shook her head.

"Anyway, me and Roza are gonna go to Jennifer's twelfth birthday party that weekend," Lysa added.

I stood awkwardly by the door, wanting to add that it was a documentary rather than a fantasy movie. Chances of more denial happening were high, so I kept my mouth shut and slowly went over to them. I bent down beside Roza and watches as she stroked Lysa's golden locks up and down.

"Can I come?" I finally squeaked.

"Nope. Family only."

"But you and Roza aren't even family," I protested.

"BFFs _are _like family," Roza replied. She set the brush down and started separating Lysa's hair into sections.

I gulped back tears. A clear question was at the back of my head, and somehow I already knew the answer. "Aren't I your BFF, too?" I asked.

"No. You're our _friend. _There's a difference."

"Oh," I mumbled.

"Can you get cookies? I'm starving," Lysa asked with a sugar-coated voice.

My face grew red with embarrassment. Anger bubbled below my chest at how nonchalant and quick Roza replied. I wasn't sad at all. I was _mad. _These two had fooled me into thinking I was their friend for three years! I wanted to yell at them, to kick them out of my house and never see them again.

But something held me back. It was the fear of what they would say about me after if I did something vicious towards them. They would spread gossip and make my life a living hell. Then again, my naiveté to follow them like a lost puppy both humiliated and disgusted me. It was so clear they used me, why couldn't I see it? I bet everyone in our grade did and the funniest topic among them was 'look how stupid Zelda is.'

That's when I realized I had to break it off with them. I _must _enact retribution upon them before they continued this bullying.

"Hello? Why are you still here? Go get some cookies!"

I flinched at Lysa's command. Venom replaced the sugar in her voice a few minutes ago.

"Zelda?"Roza cautioned, eyeing me with a glare.

_"NO!" _

It took me a total of three minutes to muster up the courage to scream. But I did it, and the look of confusion written on their faces was satisfying.

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"You heard me. _No. _N—O. Now get out," I demanded, rising to my own two feet. "I won't get your cookies and I won't let you push me around anymore. This is _my _house and _my _room—And _this,_" I snatched the ivory brush right out of Roza's hands, "is _mine_. GET. OUT."

"Are you _crazy?" _Lysa screamed. Roza helped her to her feet and the two rushed to the threshold of the room.

In my fit of rage, I flung the brush at their feet. "Maybe I am!" I proclaimed, face flushed and legs shaking.

"You're _insane,_" they shrieked and then ran out into the large hall. Echoes of their hurried footsteps ran rampant throughout the domed ceiling. I rushed to the landing to check if they were gone for good.

"Miss Roza, Miss Lysa—leaving so soon?"Rauru the butler asked, carrying a plate of cookies.

Roza ran by him, opened the double doors and exited with Lysa behind her heels. A prompt _slam_ from the door left him stunned.

He looked up with confusion to see the source of their terror. "Miss Zelda," he asked, surprised to see me. Then he grinned. "You finally got rid of those wicked witches."

I smiled. "I sure did."

The pain of losing the two friends I ever had was a slap to the face and awakened me into reality. I became more cautious to those who entered my life, careful not to be used again.

Though my social life turned into a living nightmare as I presumed it to be, I was still pretty content with what I had and what I didn't have. I had my books, my harp and my computer to keep me occupied rather than friends who would just use and abuse me like Roza and Lysa had.

At first, I attempted to find new and true friends to replace the vile ones I had kicked out. As I said, it was an attempt. My mission ended in failure with social ridicule.

Roza and Lysa, the two queen bees of our middle school, spread a nasty rumour that I was a sociopathic lesbian. It hurt to hear such false words from them, but then again, I expected it and was prepared when the rumour started. With the comfort of their error (they meant 'psychopathic' but they used sociopathic), and with my handy guide to bullying, I learned to ignore it and let the flames extinguish themselves. The rumour slowly died off, and with it, my existence.

Being naturally shy with the combination of Roza demanding everyone to ignore me, the name _Zelda Nohansen_ was only acknowledged by the teachers. Well_, most_ teachers. Sometimes my own teachers didn't even notice me. Quiet as a mouse who lurked in the shadows, I was basically just the wall to everyone in the school.

So…_of course_ I was excited about moving! A new start at life, a new place to make friends and actually have experiences with _people _instead of books was like a dream too good to come true. Hylia, you finally heard my prayer!

With that sudden thought, I clasp my hands together before I pack, making a huge thank you note mentally to the goddess Hylia. Then I begin organizing my things into neat little piles; clothes, supplies, makeup, jewelry, containers. I slap myself in the forehead. Boxes! Who could forget about boxes when packing?

"Zelda! Slow down. We're not moving—yet," Dad says cheekily when he catches me flying down the grand staircase.

"I know. I just want to get things going. I really don't want to be late," I reply.

"You're never late for anything." He grabs me into a bear hug and I screech with terror. I really don't like heights—even if it's two feet off the ground.

"Set me down! Set me down!" I cry. Then I start to laugh because it's such a ridiculous fear.

He complies and grins. "You know, you haven't even seen the house we picked yet."

I gasp. "How come I wasn't included in the house picking?"

"It's a surprise!"

"I don't like surprises," I mutter.

"You'll definitely like this one."

"Guess I'll see it when we get there."

For most of the week, I remain indoors in anticipation. Wild thoughts race through my mind. Where is this house? What does it look like? And which location will we be in? My vivid imagination sets up wild settings—a castle in the mountains, a palace in the desert, a posh house in the suburbs, a skyscraper in a crowded city. The possibilities are endless and leave me pondering restlessly into the night.

During the day, I participate in sorting objects out and putting them into boxes. At the end of heavy packing, movers come in the evening to carry furniture and pack things into the gigantic trucks parked in our U-shaped driveway. Dad sometimes visits them for a quick chat and a large tip. Mom occasionally joins them with a pitcher of cold lemonade. It isn't easy moving hundreds of heavy objects and emptying out a ginormous mansion—especially in the middle of August.

"Zelda," Mom says in one of these meetings.

"Yes?" I inquire shyly. There's a boy from my school who's on shift today. He pretends he doesn't recognize…or maybe he _doesn't _recognize me. The thought makes my heart fall because I recognize him—he was in my grade nine history class who always blabbed about how boring history was in front of our teacher.

Mom pours the lemonade into glasses. I fidget more. I definitely want to skedaddle before all the movers sit around the sun table with my family.

"Why don't you explore the city before we move?" she says with a smile.

"G—good idea!" I stutter, catching a quick glance to the boy. He's approaching now and I whiten. I hope he doesn't notice my reaction to his presence.

He saunters over, ignores me and takes a glass off the table. "Thank you, ma'am," he says to Mom.

"If I were you, I'd take the opportunity to visit Hylia's Eye. It's so beautiful at this time!" she's hinting heavily at me, knowing my discomfort around strangers and my inability to communicate during small talks.

I give a curt nod and practically run to the garage where my bicycle is. It's an old thing that looks as if it stepped right out of a retro movie. Though it makes me look eccentric, I love its antiquity.

"Bye, Zel!" Mom and Dad call as I ride by them.

Since I have terrible balance and my legs feel wobbly, I don't lift my hand in farewell. Instead, I continue riding hoping that I don't fall off. My nerves settle down as soon as I leave the street. This is when I can let my senses absorb everything.

Hylia Hills was named after the goddess since many who visit say this is her paradise. There are lush trees reaching high into the clear sky, flowers grow ubiquitously, rolling green hills surround the deep blue bay and the wind carries the scent of sea salt and the cry of eagles from its blue waves. Mansions and palaces align the peaks while small clusters of houses and shops are at the foot of the hills. These are the most charming places—a sense of a bygone era lingers in the cobblestoned villages with stone chimneys blowing smoke into the air.

All of Hylia's Bay and its surroundings can be seen from a specific point in the city. It's a popular tourist attraction. As my bike carries me there, I hope the tourists are gone for the evening so I can have some time to myself in reminiscing my soon to be old life.

To be honest, I don't know whether to cheer or to cry. The thought of leaving created a sensation of joy. Ever since I was twelve, I just wanted to go to a new school. And now the opportunity has shown itself, I'm happier than I can ever be. My future looks bright and I hope that my fresh start won't be ruined by my terrible sense of self-worth. The years of conditioned bullying and social isolation have rendered me anxious in practically all things social. If someone were to say hi to me, I'd most likely stand there and blubber like an idiot before anything that makes sense comes out of my mouth.

The thoughts of impending doom—a new school, a new crowd, new teachers, an overwhelming fear of the unknown— keeps me occupied as I ride up the all too familiar leafy foliage and dirt path to Hylia's Eye.

Once I get there, I immediately calm down. There isn't anyone here save for the leafy palms that hover over the pristine marble statue of the goddess Hylia. She's at the centre of a bed of flowers and a moat wraps around her. Water trickles into it by the small fountains—tiny loftwings that squirt water from their mouths placed by her sides, as if guarding her. The rupees in the water reflect the moonlight. Many people come here to offer her fortune in trade of her guidance, and I'm one of those people who litter her fountain with rupees.

Reaching into my back pocket, I throw in a blue rupee for good luck and send her a prayer of hope and fortune. Then, since I'm in my ranting stage while praying, I throw in my fears and desires. After I finish, I don't feel relief. All I feel is shame. It sounds so mundane and cowardly. What would a goddess have to do with someone as mortal as me?

Then I realize that's not why I feel ashamed. It's because I'm so scared of the future, which is silly considering just a day ago I was bouncing with joy.

"Mind if I have a turn?" a voice says behind me.

I can't help but stiffen. Then panic overwhelms me. It's dark, the voice belongs to a man, and I'm all alone. All these factors send an adrenaline rush towards my body—or maybe it's because he addresses me. I'm not too good with talking to people.

Though I don't want to see what's behind, I turn around anyway. The shadows of the trees cover his entire body. All I can make out are the bottom his legs in the moonlight. He wears those tourist sandals, the hideous ones with the Velcro straps. The hair on his calves leaps out at me and all I can think about is Bigfoot. Since I'm so tired and nervous, I start to giggle hysterically at this amusing and random observation.

"What's so funny?" he asks, curious.

He doesn't know I'm laughing at him! Immediately, I shut up. I'm not one to be rude.

The shadows leave him as he approaches me. I stare callously at him, trying to make out his features. They're strong and sharp like an ancient Hylian athlete sculpture. His gaze shifts to mine and I force myself to keep staring.

"What? Do I have something on my teeth?" he says.

"No," I say firmly, surprising myself. My voice always wavers around strangers. Strangely, this man is an exception to this rule. "It's too dark to see anything clearly."

I still stare at him and only manage to make out the contours of his face. It must be the terrible lighting that prevents me from getting all shaky. If I can't see his reaction clearly, then he can't see the nervous wreck that I am. Soon enough, this observation provides me some much needed confidence.

"What are you doing up here? It's late." I initiate the conversation, feeling pride that it comes out smoothly without a single stutter.

"It's my last vacation day," the man replies. He then takes a seat by me on the soft grass. The leaves' shadows veil any sort of expression from him. "I'll have to go back to Ordon tomorrow, and I really want to spend my last night here."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I smile.

Beyond the statue of Hylia lies the sleeping city of Hylia Hills. Some house lights pierce the darkness which shrouds the valley. At the bottom, the large bay is silent. Boats are harboured, the birds are asleep, and the vacationers are tucked indoors. The soft swish of waves is all too familiar and reminds me that its presence will be absent in my new home.

"I'm leaving this place soon, too," I say quietly. My heart swells with sadness at the thought. Suddenly my eyes begin to water. I gulp back the painful lump in my throat and attempt to clear it with a small cough.

"Are you a tourist as well?"

"No. I'm a resident." I do everything to control my voice from cracking.

"You're lucky! I wish I could live here but my parents don't have much money to buy any of the huge mansions."

I nod, indicating I'm listening to him.

"Before coming here, I researched Hylia's Hills extensively. You could say this is the place where I'd choose to live if I could live anywhere," he says with enthusiasm. His hands stroke the grass beneath us playfully. "I heard the Hero of Time himself travelled beneath Lake Hylia. Well, it _was _a lake, but the great sea engulfed it and turned it into a bay."

He crosses his legs and places his hand into the fountain's cold water. I imitate him. I'm feeling hot right now and the water's crisp surface is exactly what I need to cool down.

"This peak is called Hylia's Eye for a reason. _This_," he points at the statue, "was the spot where she descended from the heavens once a year to watch her people. As the Hylians grew more independent from their goddess, her visits became scarcer. Rumour has it she can be seen every thousandth year." He slumps his position. "I was hoping this year she'd come."

I'm saddened at how his excitement leaves him as quickly as it came. He really loves Hylia Hills and the goddess who watches it. Then I'm mad that not many like him live here. It is a sacred place and it's full of mean-spirited rich people who think Hylia is only a goddess in legends.

"They lost track of time. No one knows her last visit, so who knows when she will come," I console. Once it's out of my mouth, I notice how bad it sounds. I just reminded him that he probably won't see Hylia in his lifetime. Realizing my error, I attempt to correct with friendliness. "It's nice to meet someone who appreciates Hylia. Many are losing their faith in her and the other goddesses. I personally believe in all the old legends passed down through the ages."

"I also believe in them," he says. "Though everyone else in my family doesn't."

"What's Ordon like?" I ask, remembering that he had to move back there once his vacation is over. "I've never been outside of Hylia Hills before."

Immediately, he blasts off. "There's a beautiful downtown district with old buildings and a park dedicated to the sacred spring of Ordona."

"The light spirit?"

"Yes," he replies, impressed at my observation. "Someone's been listening to her classics class."

I grin at the compliment, amazed he noticed what I found interesting within seconds.

"Faron Woods is still preserved as a national park. The Temple of Time has been reconstructed—"

"I've always wanted to go there!" I say suddenly, excited. Then I grow red, embarrassed by my outburst. I'm glad he can't see my burning cheeks in the dark.

"Oh, yes. It's a wonderful sight-seeing attraction. Maybe you can come visit next summer," he happily says. "If you've got a good memory for historical facts, you could volunteer as a guide if you wanted to. Though, I'm pretty sure you'd make a good guide with that enthusiasm!"

"T—thanks," I murmur. Mixed feelings stir within me—first I'm happy at his compliment yet I'm strangely embarrassed he noticed my eagerness. I'm also startled by its effect on me. There's pride and modesty battling within me to grin broadly or cow my head.

I cow my head, hoping he won't notice the silly grin of delight behind my curtain of hair.

"Ordon isn't a very big place like this," he continues. "It's got a population of two thousand, so it's a small town with friendly neighbours. If you're a stranger walking through, you're bound to be picked up by one of the residents and get a free meal," he says proudly.

"The people sound so friendly! Unlike the people here."

"Really? I think everyone here is friendly. Some of the girls down by the beach gave me a free sundae yesterday," he says. He leans back onto his hands and gazes skywards. "They also let me ride their jet ski! I've never ridden one of those before. What a wild ride!"

My eyes widen in realization. "Was there a redhead and a blond there by chance?" I couldn't help but ask. I was curious if _they _were there. They often went to the beach and flirted with hot tourists through bribery during the summers.

"Yeah," he replies. "I think they're names are Roza and Lysa. You know them?"

I remain silent and lie on my back, staring at the stars with him. I don't want to tell the truth because I know there'll be venom in my voice and I'll come off as cruel. But I'm also a bad liar and feel guilty of deceiving. So, reluctantly I say, "I was friends with them in middle school."

"Hmm…" he tilts his head slightly to the left. "What do you mean by 'was'?"

What a terrible mistake to answer his question! I groan. I should've lied rather than tell the truth! "Nothing," I snap. There's heaviness in my chest and my throat's feeling sore. My body's hinting that there'll be the waterworks soon, so I heave myself up and decide to leave a proper farewell. He also stands up as well, probably because it's awkward sitting under a girl in a skirt.

"That was a nice chat among strangers," I say, and my voice begins to crack at the end. "But it's late and I have to go now."

Hurriedly, I stick out my hand. He's startled by the quick movement, but then he slowly puts his hand into mine. With a firm grip, I shake his arm up and down—a little too fast and a little too long.

He chuckles at my handshake. "What a shake!."

I don't bother laughing, mainly because I'm nervous and feel like crying if I say another word. Instead, I march to my parked bicycle, seat myself onto it, and attempt to strap on my helmet. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. I'm angry that my fingers can't do such a simple task.

"Need some help?"

He appears behind me, and I flinch at his arrival. I don't say anything. I'm too focused on restraining the tears from falling.

Expertly, he takes the straps from my feeble hands and hooks them together under my chin. I blush as his warm hands caress my face. It feels so weird being so close to someone physically.

"There," he breathes.

"T—thanks," I croak, and a sob escapes my lips right after. I immediately panic. I'm horrified at the sound.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, clearly shocked at my sudden sob. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I cry.

With effort, I take off, pedaling at a ridiculous speed down the hill. I'm afraid I might bang into a tree or fall off the cliff. All I want to do is go home and sleep. But I can't let my parents see me in such a terrible state. I don't want them questioning what happened because I actually don't _know _what just happened. I had a pleasant conversation with a stranger and I leave in tears. What the heck is _wrong _with me?

Soon I find myself at the bottom of the road leading to Hylia's Eye. I continue forward, watching as the trees to my left blur by me. To my right are the endless sky and the bay beneath it. It's so beautiful that a sudden urge to feel the sand between my toes fills me. On impulse, I steer my bike to the nearest exit. I may as well cool off and dry my tears before heading home.

I fling the bike to the side, take off my sandals and tear off my helmet. I walk on the cool sand. My feet sink into it, its velvety texture sliding off as my heels kick into the air. I feel like I'm flying as I run on the beach, the wind from the waves pushing my hair away from my eyes and erasing the flush on my cheeks.

Finally, I land onto the ground. I sit cross-legged, watching as the waves crash within inches of me. I'm breathless and tired beyond a doubt, yet many questions keep me wide awake.

What an awkward conversation. Another attempt at acting sociable—_again. _It's so silly that I fled, so stupid that I suddenly started crying at an old memory of being friends with Lysa and Roza. Even years after that fiasco, I'm still hurt by it. I wonder if he thinks I'm nuts for acting out. Then I remind myself that he's just a stranger. I'd probably never meet him in the future again! The thought comforts me, yet the fear of next week prevails and consumes me with anxiety.

I'm so confused as to what to feel. Am I happy that I'm leaving? Won't I be sad that all of this is gone? What if I don't like my new home, what if the kids there are meaner than the ones here? Sure, starting a new life sounds like an amazing possibility and a dream come true, but the reality of it could be a living nightmare. The thought of the unknown occupies my mind and replaces the worry of appearing weird in front of a stranger.

Carefully, I check to see if I stopped crying. My face feels fresh like I just came back from the spa, there's no dampness and my nose isn't running with snots. I get off the ground, gather my bike and head home with even more worry. I've been at the beach for a good half-hour, stayed at Hylia's Eye for another half-hour, and the time travelled from to place takes about an hour. Overall, I've been out _way _too long.

Once I get home, Dad and Mom spring on me with anger in their voices.

"What took you so long?" they cry. They're both in their flannel pyjamas with their mugs of coffee and cute little bunny slippers.

I smile at the sight and laugh. The weary feeling from all the emotional turmoil soon vanishes. I grin at them and comment on their ridiculous pyjamas.

"We're not fashion designers," Dad retorts.

"Now stop avoiding the question!" Mom adds.

"I went all over the city. Sorry I took so long," I reply nonchalantly. The lie comes easily and quickly. I'm even surprised that I didn't hesitate to fabricate the tale.

"Oh," she responds, the anger disappearing from her face. "I guess that's fine, then. We're leaving soon, so best to look at everything before we're gone Just don't do it again." She pulls me into a hug. "Thank Hylia you're safe!"

Dad smiles at me and messes my hair up with his free hand. "Two more days and we're outta here!"

* * *

_A/N - _Special thanks to Imagination that, cookiebee, Kai, PianoPlayer1200, lavenderlilacblossoms, kitkat, tentsubasa, Skydragon74193, 007, etsy, tswift1fan, Paula Abelenda, BladedCiaran, ShadowNinja1011, Burning Light and Crystal, ahrichanx, 11lol11, Ayako Zetra, LightningDance, MsNerdd, and annonymous reviewers for providing amazing feedback in the original Loveless. I'd also like to say thanks to those who favourited and followed, it really lets me know that I'm writing for people who actually enjoy my writing, which is an amazing feeling!

If you're a new reader and you're wondering 'what the heck is the original Loveless?' I'll be posting it upon completion so you can quench your curiosity and know why I rewrote it!

Besides that, I truly hope you'll love this loveless story.

~ Chameleon Eyes


	2. Chapter 2: The Final Day

**~ 2 ~ **

**The Final Day  
**

**~ o ~**

* * *

The house is completely empty. Each step I take sends echoes everywhere. It looks so big when it's empty, so impersonal. The home I grew and lived feels foreign to me.

I walk up the stairs and into my bedroom. All that's left is the bamboo panelled flooring, the large windows, the violet wallpaper. I remember painting the walls that colour, sitting in the window seat reading my favourite novels, and sliding on the smooth floor with mismatched socks and fluffy slippers. Although it isn't much, this is all that remains of me.

I wonder whose sanctuary this room will become. Perhaps it will be turned into someone's study or maybe even an art studio. Whichever the case, I hope the new owner will be happy with it as much as I have been.

"Zelda!" Mom calls.

"Yes?" I walk down to the lobby where she's gathered the remaining boxes. The movers wait beside a couch impatiently.

"Help me open the double doors for them, why don't you?"

She's already holding one door open. I nod and move to the other. The movers lift the couch and move through without another word.

"We're planning on leaving tomorrow morning," Mom says.

I know what she's going to say next. She knows that I love this place, that I'll miss it and eventually get homesick in our new home. "Better get out there and see Hylia Hills for the last time," I interrupt, imitating her chirpy voice.

Her eyes widen in amused shock. "How'd you know I was going to say that?" She smiles.

"Telepathy," I offer. She laughs at that and I smirk as I prance off. It's always nice making Mom laugh. Work always makes her unhappy, and the opportunity to wipe the look of frustration off her face makes me feel like I've won the lottery.

"Hey, Dad!" I shout across the wide lawn, running to him.

He turns around and grins, looking ever like a tourist. He wears a fanny pack, a sun hat, sandals, a print shirt and cargo shorts. I barely recognize him with the oversized sunglasses perched on his nose. "Yeah?" he asks. In front of him is one of the movers.

I blush in my error. It's rude to interrupt conversation, so I quickly ask my question and hope for a brief answer. "Do you know where my small harp is? The one with the gold frame?"

"Sorry, we packed it and it's somewhere in one of those boxes. Too much of a hassle to retrieve it," the mover answers gruffly.

I avert eye contact, nod politely and turn to Dad. "Did you pack the bike yet?"

"No. You can still ride it if you want to. It's in the garage."

I gather it and head out, enjoying the sun's warmth and the breeze coming in from the bay. Our house has its own beach and the public beach isn't far off. Though I could just sit and relax at our beach, I decide to test my courage in the public. Besides, I could really use a nice creamy, sweet sundae right now.

It's noon right now and there are many half-naked sunbathers on the beach. The adults are relaxing on bright printed towels, the kids swimming and screaming as waves hit them. A group of people are throwing a frisbee off to the side while another is building a magnificent sandcastle. I almost stop and stare at its detail. It isn't a glob of sand like most, but there are windows and doors and stones carved into the sand. It looks stunning.

I take my eyes off it and fix my gaze on the colourful pastel paint of the snack shack. It sticks out against the vibrant blue of the bay and the leafy greens exploding from the sand dunes. It's one of my favourite places to grab a bite to eat. Ever since my first sloppy joe there at the age of five, I find myself propelling to it whenever I'm on the go and on an empty stomach.

This time, people in swimsuits are crowding around waiting for their order in the takeout section. Within the snack shack are tables that are all occupied. The cold air from inside escapes as people exit and enter.

I walk at the end of the line and begin to fidget to occupy my time. I stare at my hands, my feet, the sky. Fluffy white clouds drift by. The contrast against white and blue is amazing.

"And I was like, 'Mom, I'm young, I can eat whatever the hell I want and not gain a single pound—unlike _you're _fat as_s_!' And her mouth was like this—"

I flinch at the familiarity. The annoying voice behind me belongs to none other than Roza, and wherever she goes Lysa follows.

"And the best thing is she, _she grounded me!"_

"Omigoddess! How horrible of her!"

Yes. That was _definitely _Lysa's whiny compliance. My heart rate accelerates and my hands go clammy. I don't want them to recognize me, so I face forward and don't move a muscle. I try the best I can to shut out their conversation by checking out the menu above the counter. It's futile since I've already memorized it. Hot dogs with a side of fries for six rupees…

"Yeah, so now I'm getting revenge on her by purchasing the Super Deluxe Special from this fat food place and eating it like a hog._"_

A hamburger and a pop bottle for seven rupees…

"What about your modeling gig?"

A slushie for three rupees…

"Trust me, I've got a fast metabolism."

"Ma'am?"

I look up into the face of a kind cashier. She smiles broadly. I smile back.

"I can take your order, ma'am," she says.

I nod and walk forward. There's a large gap between me and the service counter. "Can I have a strawberry sundae with deku nuts, please?" I ask quietly.

"Strawberry sundae with deku nuts," she repeats and then punches numbers into the cashier. "That all?"

"Yes," I say, handing her a red rupee.

She points to another group of people who check their phones, tap their feet or converse with each other. "Wait over there and it'll arrive soon."

I walk over. Soon Roza and Lysa arrive. They're behind me and still don't notice who I am.

"Man, that guy yesterday was _cute!_"

"Which guy? The blond one?"

"Definitely! Did you see his muscles?"

"Man oh man, he _was _a sexy beast. And that smile!"

_"Dazzling!"_

I can't take their bantering anymore. I turn around and give them an evil glare.

"Woah! What's up _her _ass?" Lysa says when I face forward. It's meant to be whisper but I can hear it. They're loud and they don't even know it.

"Beats me. She looks kinda like that stripper the guys hired last week," comments Roza. I feel her eyeballing me from my feet to my head.

"She was tra_shy_."

"But what a party!"

They go off blabbing about the party—how all the guys were hot there, how it was a blast until the surprise guests showed up, how it was full of drugs, hook-ups and skinny dipping.

I scowl at the conversation. I'm _glad _that I got out of our make-believe friendship while I could. What would happen if they still manipulated me? Would I be a skanky druggie? Would _I _be the one to spread narcotics and inviting scantily clad ladies to my house while my parents are out?

"Strawberry sundae with deku nuts!" a guy shouts. It startles me from my train of thought. I quickly grab it out of his hands and almost dash off.

"Hey!" he cries. "You forget your spoon."

Reluctantly, I return. I can't eat the sloppy ice cream sundae with only my hands. How ridiculous would that be?

"Thanks," I mutter.

The girls behind me are still chattering away and are on an entirely new different topic.

"That redhead guy's such a dork," Roza continues.

"Ha! And he was stalking us at the party!"

"Oh-em-gee! Here he comes now!"

They duck and giggle amongst themselves as a skinny guy in a purple trunks marches purposely up to them. He's got a confident smirk on his face and messy bronze locks.

"How's it going, ladies?" he asks suavely. His hand then brushes down his untamed hair smoothly.

"Oh, _hiiiiiii," _drawls Roza. She's smiling sweetly and makes her eyelashes flutter. Lysa behind her is shaking with silent laughter.

"Can I get you girls a drink?"

"How about you rent us an ATV instead?" Lysa's leaning into him, slyly toiling a piece of loose hair.

The scene playing out in front of me is disgusting. Their childish act of toying with people's emotions is still going on. It pains me to see him be played the fool. He looks like such a nice guy trying desperately hard to win hearts. He's so oblivious to their game that it's hurts me to watch him get tricked.

Something inside me bursts forth and forces me to approach them with a menacing glare. If I'm going to leave this place for good, I may as well patch my broken past before moving forth.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I say. I'm still holding onto the clean spoon. My ice cream's melting, but it'll have to wait before I eat it.

"Who are you?" Lysa snaps. She's staring me down with those cold blue eyes of her. They don't intimidate me like they used to. Instead of backing down like a coward, I'm angrier than I ever was before.

"You don't recognize me?" I demand. Hot blood rushes to my face in annoyance. Or maybe it's from the heat of the sun.

Roza gives me a once over and sneers. "What do you want? You shouldn't be interrupting people's conversations."

I snort. "Wow. After all these years, you don't even know who I am."

They're both confused. I find it amusing that after all they did, they can't even recognize me. It makes me wonder how many lives they've ruined lives without ever knowing.

"Uhh…" the boy holds up a finger as if to intervene. He looks so dazed by this random girl interrupting his chance to swoon.

Then, Roza's face snaps into recognition. Her eyes widen and her lips transform into a perfect 'o'. She looks at me with an ugly bug-eyed expression before she returns to her normal self—cold-hearted, cruel and annoyed. "Hello, _Zelly," _she spits. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Zelly?" Lysa asks, as if remembering the name from somewhere. "No!" She gasps, realization striking her into a hideous expression of surprise.

"Yea, it's me." I restrain myself from adding _bitches. _I hate all forms of curse words. It makes people sound so unrefined and just makes angry people angrier.

"Huh. I thought you moved a long time ago."

I shuffle restlessly. "No. I'm moving tomorrow, actually."

"Yeah. Whatever. You're a nobody, and you'll always be a nobody." She starts to turn, smiling to the boy. "You getting us an ATV or what—?"

Suddenly, I'm clutching onto her arm to stop her from leaving. All I feel is anger, desperation, despair. If they didn't care all this time, then why did I? Why must they be so cruel? So mean? So _ignorant?_ They've ruined my life and affected me negatively. I've done nothing to them. In fact, they don't even _remember _me. All those years wasted feeling pity for myself sends tears to my eyes. Had I been imagining my whole life being a wreck this entire time? Everyone moved on after I was bullied into nothingness. But not me.

"What you did," I mumble. I feel weak, fragile. I don't want to look into those cold eyes, to see their iciness ever again. But this will be the last time. "Wasn't very nice."

I muster all the bitter resentment I had in the past eight years, all the cause of my loneliness and suffering, and direct it to her—the source of all my negativity.

A fleeting look of pity flashes across her eyes. She doesn't say anything. Instead, she rips her arm out of my grip and brushes my sweaty palm aside. "Get off of me." She walks away, as if nothing happened. Lysa's following her closely, a frightened look on her pretty face.

I'm staring at the ice cream on the ground, ruined by the sand. Funny. I don't remember dropping it. I don't even remember what I just said to Roza.

"You all right?"

I look up into indigo eyes. I'm startled by their alertness. I can tell with one look their owner is curious with me, that he's analyzing my facial expression, my body language, wondering what I'm thinking.

"Yeah. I'm fine," I reply. "What a waste of a sundae." I bend down and take the goopy mess off the ground. I throw it into a nearby trash can and then return to kick sand over it. Better not let some kid step on the disaster and cry.

"That was really a scene," he begins.

I brush him by without another word. Then, in my fit of rage, I turn to him, angry that he didn't spot their manipulation. It's partly reflective of me. _I'm _mad at myself, too, and take it out on this helpless stranger.

"You know they were playing with you, don't you?" I say weakly, voice shaking.

I'm probably not scary at all because he just smiles and laughs, his face turning a pink hue. "It's in the past now." He waves it off so casually, it annoys me.

I cross my arms and tap my foot impatiently. "You better spot those types of girls unless you want your heart to get broken repeatedly."

"Lesson learned!" he speaks happily. His arm wraps around my shoulder and I stiffen. Slowly, he leans in and whispers: "Actually, it was more of an experiment to test whether my hypothesis of hot girls being mean was correct. Guess I'm right!"

"What a horrible hypothesis!" I take his arm off of me and step back in horror. "What kind of man are you, testing 'hot' girls to see if they're mean? What if she's nice?"

"A nice attractive girl just has to prove me wrong." He shrugs his shoulders like it's no big deal.

"There's such a thing called subjective beauty, you know?"

"And there's _also _an evolutionary universal levels of attractiveness in a mate. The more symmetrical the face, the more attractive. As for females, a larger hips and an ample—"

"That's enough." I stop him before he goes further. There's a crowd eavesdropping in on us and I don't want them to get the wrong idea on beauty based on science. Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, after all.

"What? You're going to drop my scientific spiel just like that?" he snaps his fingers. He starts to pout when I give a curt nod.

"I gotta go," I say quickly, intending to end things right there.

"Last days?" he asks, and to my surprise, he tags along like it's no big deal. "I'm Shad, if you haven't heard of my name yet."

He looks as if he wants a decent conversation with someone, and now that I know his name, I'm encouraged to continue. It's like he's shared something personal with me, and I have to give something back. "I'm Zelda," I start slowly, unsure of how to continue. "I'm leaving this place tomorrow for good."

"Aw. That's too bad. I'm leaving right before school starts." He's struggling to keep up with my fast pace.

"You're a tourist?"

"Yup. I live in Castleton, the majestic and beautiful city," he smiles grandly. "Nothing's ever dull there, let me tell you that."

"Castleton? Oh! I've always wanted to go there ever since I was a little girl—"

The song of storms jingle rides right by us. Instantly, a large group of people surround the ice cream truck with cries of excitement. A nice, cold, refreshing drink would make anyone cry for glee in this weather.

He ponders, a blank look on his face as he gazes at me. "Hmm…" he trails off, his eyes staring at some invisible object hovering above his head.

"What?" I ask. "The song of storms is my favourite tune," I add helplessly.

"How about I get you an ice cream cone?" He ignores my little comment. "To make up for your spoiled one."

"Oh. Right. _That."_ The fresh memory lightens the fury within me. I'm so angry I was ever _mad _at two careless girls for so long! It wasn't worth it and the realization of its wasted value forces me to tighten my fists and grit my teeth.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine," I reply, trying to cool down with laboured breaths. "You don't have to get me a sundae. It's all right—

"Strawberry sundae with deku nuts, yeah?" he interrupts hastily. There's a challenge in his eyes, and something tells me I shouldn't disagree with him. He's not one to back down on a generous offer.

So I nod to him. I feel guilty for him buying me a sundae when I have no appetite for it.

When he comes back with a huge tray of fries, drinks, hamburgers and ice cream sundaes, I'm leaning against a palm tree. Its cool shade does little to the heat surging inside me.

"You're standing a little too close for comfort there," he says.

At first I'm confused by what he's talking about, then I follow his gaze to a sleeping lady inches away from me. "Oh!" I cry once my eyes fully register that there's a person right next to me. It's like a ghost appearing from nowhere—I didn't see her, and once she emerged into my vision, she spooks me.

"Shh!" he says, head tilting to her. "She's sleeping."

Together, we walk to the pier in the distance. He hands me my strawberry sundae while he digs into his chocolate fudge sundae. I offer to help him carry the tray, but he shakes his head.

"It is an incredible feat to handle multiple objects within your hands at the same time. Plus, it promotes your motor abilities. Everyone knows I need to improve upon that skill!"

At the moment he says this, he stumbles with his own two feet, tips, and desperately tries to regain his balance. Quickly, I grab a hold of his arm and steady him.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah," he cries, his eyes still widened from the shock. "Here—take this. I don't trust myself with it."

For the remainder of the walk, I carefully hold the tray with two hands, allowing my ice cream to melt. I don't want him wasting the food he bought for me—a stranger. I kind of like this guy, he seems nice and he's a little funny, a bit socially awkward, too, so I can relate to him well. I like his eccentricity as he rambles on and on about how the Zoras are finally letting scientists take a peek at the making of the Zora suit, his language concise and his sesquipedalian loquaciousness entertaining. I'm surprisingly understanding every single word he says.

"All right! Here we are," he says, interrupting his eloquent, passionate speech.

"The fabled pier of the hills," I comment. "The wooden boards are rumoured to come from Skyloft. I think it's hogwash! Wouldn't it be rotten by now?" I poke my foot and test the boards' strength. It's solid and not ancient like it should be if the rumours are true.

"I agree with you, definitely," he says. "Now, here's my fries, my burger, my drink, the rest is all yours!" he smiles happily, and goes down the pier. He sits down at the end, his feet dangling and his silhouette illuminated by the sun in the ocean.

Now's my chance. Do I sit with this guy, who I'm strangely comfortable around, or do I retreat back and reflect on all the horrible events of today?

I walk to him, deciding that it's for the best. He'll be a decent distraction from Lysa and Roza's horrible words, a wonderful person to speak to about anything. I don't necessarily want to spill my heart out to him…I just feel so alone after that confrontation, so miserable. I need someone in my presence to keep me on my toes for now.

"Stunning sight, isn't it?" he asks as I take a seat beside him. He's looking at the light blue on dark blue of the sky and ocean, the sun peeking behind a curtain of puffy clouds, illuminating his hair into a metallic shine.

"Yeah, it is," I say as I put the tray on my lap and take a bite out of the burger. I nod and chew, shielding the sun from my eyes.

"Such a shame you'll be gone tomorrow. I was hoping we could go visit Fyer's Oasis Flight and paraglide."

"Oh, no! I couldn't possibly do such a thing. It's so dangerous," I reply, horrified at even the mere thought of flying ten feet above the ground in the open ocean. What if I land with a splash and sharks are by my side? There's a reason why I only stay in the shallow end.

"Eh," he calls. "It was worth a shot."

"Worth a shot for what?"

"Of asking you out," he says nonchalantly. He takes a bite into his burger.

Suddenly heat rushes to my face, and all at once, my throat begins to dry and everywhere, my skin gets sweatier. "Wha—what?" I stammer. "What?"

"Hey, you know how I said that all hot girls are mean?"

"Yes." I have no idea where he's taking this to, all that's on my mind is that _he _asked _me _out, which has never, _ever_ happened in my life. When a handsome boy takes an interest, girls usually hop around with glee. As for me, I just sit there, my mouth hanging open and my heart racing a thousand beats per minute.

"Well, I think I just found my antithesis," he grins, nodding as if I take notice of his joke.

"What is it?" I ask, frantically occupying my hands with the foam cup of the soft drink.

"You."

"Me?" I say. "Me?"

"Hey, you're pretty and you're nice, so yeah, _you."_

"Um," I start, unsure of how to respond to something so direct. "Thank you?"

"Ugh! Forget it," he cries suddenly, getting off his seat. "The one time I actually meet a girl with brains, she suddenly loses them in an instant. What's up with that?" He doesn't wait for an answer and stalks off.

"No, wait, I'm sorry!" I plead, turning around, attempting to rise and all the food he's bought falls off my lap.

I jog up to him. I don't know if he's angry at me, or if he's humiliated by my own embarrassment due to confusion, but I walk right next to him nonetheless. He probably thinks I'm evil, putting on a fake act of surprise to get to him. I've seen tons of girls do it before to deny a request on a date, and I didn't even know I was using it until now.

"I apologize," I say breathlessly. "I didn't mean to act like that. I was just confused by your request, that's all. I mean, after all, I just met you. I don't comply within the first day of meeting." I also want to add that I don't want to date anyone due to personal difficulties.

"Yeah, right," he replies gruffly, and I notice his face is beet red. I hate it when people are around me when it's so obvious I'm humiliated, so I back away, trying to respect his space.

"Truly," I say from behind. "I, uh, I'm leaving tomorrow. If you want, we can paraglide today?"

"It's all right. You don't even like to paraglide, anyway," he says. He stops and turns to me, thrusting his hand forward. "It was nice meeting you Zelda, a pleasure, truly."

He wants me gone. I shake his hand, numbly, and watch him walk away.

How come every time I attempt to make a friend, it ends in disaster?

**.**

I don't do anything for the rest of the day. I go home, disheartened by my weak confrontation to Roza and Lysa, my failed attempt at getting to know a potential friend.

All I do is walk around our private beach, occasionally bending down to pick up smooth sand dollars and calloused sea shells. I watch as the tide comes in, rising up to my knees, when only moments ago sand was in its place. And then the sun is suddenly setting on the horizon, its orange beams reflecting shimmering waves of light on the water, turning the liquid into a golden colour. I may be crazy, but I feel like diving underneath the surface in my dry clean clothes.

And so I do. I relish the cool smooth arms of water embracing my entire body, enjoying the waves wash above my head, brushing my hair to and fro like grass in a breeze as I plunge deeper and deeper into the ocean.

Soft wrinkles of sand reach my feet, and I soon realize I'm at the bottom. I curl up and look above, admiring how I can see the sun's light directly from here, the warm glow dividing into diamonds and dispersing into the water like glass spears.

Hope comes to mind as I lay at the bottom of the sea. Hope for a new life, for a new chance at creating bonds, and perhaps even finding a best friend. A genuine one, one that you can laugh at, make embarrassing jokes about, the one you can say silly things with and they wouldn't even care.

Then it all comes rushing back to me, all those cruel attempts at making that wish come true. It fails all the time, and each time I'm embarrassed, saddened, or angry that things don't work out.

I feel like crying. But the tears are quieted by the swaying of the waves.

**~ o ~**

Grade nine came and went as quickly as my newfound wish to befriend someone. I remember everything all too clearly; the over-purchased school supplies, the large swarm of students in the halls, the confusion as to what room was where, and lastly the new faces that are all too happy, all too fake as they hide behind a mask of cheerfulness. In reality, they were afraid. What if they're rejected? Humiliated? Sent to detention? Get lost in the huge school?

All of those things might not have happened to them, but it happened to me.

Rejection was the first thing. It was brief and humiliating beyond despair. I didn't feel like going to school for a week due to the event. I couldn't even show my face in the cafeteria for a month.

It all started as soon as I stepped into the hallways, my new school uniform prim and proper just like Mom liked it, the leather briefcase slung across my shoulder like a purse, and my tightly bound braids swung with the sway of my hips. My head was up, my back straight, and I strode in with as much confidence as I could.

No one paid much attention. I saw that they already gathered into their little groups, clogging the hallways and blocking lockers as they socialized, awaiting for the bell.

With printed (and laminated) schedule in hand, I charged to my locker, opened it triumphantly, eternally grateful that I memorized the locker combo the school had given me, and plopped all my supplies in there. I turned around, only to see two familiar figures walk down the hall, their gait graceful and perky all at once.

It was Roza and Lysa.

Quickly, I walked away from them with my back turned. They must not recognize me at all. Though it's been only two years since their last torment, I fear for the worst as this is a new school and a new place to establish their dominance over. And who else to show the world that they're a force to reckon with besides me, a poor little weakling on the bottom of the social ladder at school?

They stopped by a group of boys to chat, flashing their glossy manes and smiling with glistened lips. Roza's back turned and she spotted me staring. She returned to her socialization without a bat of a false eyelash, leaving me to ponder why they didn't go see me and make a huge show like they did in middle school.

The bell ringed and I was at my next class. Everything was perfectly normal. The teachers put us into groups, asking as to get to know each person. I sighed, relieved. Since I could never make the first move of meeting someone, I was grateful that she did this. The very thought of going up to someone and making an introduction made me break out in a sweat and all teary-eyed.

It went pretty good, if I remembered it correctly.

"Hi, I'm Ze-Zelda," I gulped.

I was put in a group of four. There was a blue-haired girl wearing a light blue dress that was almost see-through, and a boy with spiky purple hair with red fringes at the bottom. And then there was this blonde girl in yellow, her lean legs flexed out and ignoring our little group session.

"Tatl," the purple-haired boy grinned.

"'ello! I'm Navi! Nice to meet you," the blue-haired girl replied.

Tatl nudged the blonde girl's shoulder, and lazily she peered up from her magazine, giving all of us a glance, before returning to the glossy pages.

"Sorry, that's my sister, Tael. She isn't very talkative at first, but once you get to know her, she's annoying as—"

"So, Zelda, right? Which middle school did you go to last?" Navi asked.

"Skyloft Academy for the Gifted," I replied.

"Oooh, a smarty pants, are we?" Tatl exclaimed.

"No, no, it _was _a gifted school. It's not so much anymore but a hub for rich spoiled kids to mock teachers and poor students alike."

"Oh." Tatl's smile faltered from his face. "That's too bad."

"Not really," I said.

And that's when the conversation fell flat. The only two who talked were Tael and Navi to each other while Tatl continued reading to herself. Sometimes I tried butting in, but they'd look at me oddly, say a single-sentence answer, rather sweetly, and then return to themselves excitedly.

Once class was over, Tatl finally spoke to me before getting up from her chair.

"Tael and Navi are best friends with each other. There's no separating them."

It was an innocuous statement. I didn't stress over it, but I did wonder what she meant by it. Did she think that if I tried attempting at becoming friends with them, it would never happen? The thought hurt me. I liked Navi. I liked Tatl. _I wanted_ to be friends with them. Not best friends, but friends would be sufficient.

So at lunch I entered the cafeteria with lunch money in hand and on the verge of a panic attack. I looked everywhere and each and every table was crammed in with students, the line was huge at the serving area, and I didn't make any friends to ask if I could sit with them.

After purchasing my lunch of a cold turkey sandwich and fruit parfait, I spotted Tatl and Navi throwing food to each other with a disdained group of people beside them. Tatl and Navi were the only people I talked to the most that day, so I wandered over to them, heart pounding and breaths short. Finally, I approached them, gripping my pink tray with a death-like tendency, I was sure I'd leave indented handprints on it after I was done with it.

"Hello, Tael, Navi," I said, nodding to each in greeting.

"Hi…uh…" Tael began. I panicked—they forgot who I was! Nervously, I started biting my bottom lip and glanced around frantically, hoping to see another familiar face I could sit with.

"Zelda! Hi, Zelda!" Navi finished. "Do you need help with something?"

"No, I, uh, I was just wondering if I could sit with you guys…if that's too much to ask, it's okay. I can sit somewhere else," I said hopefully and rather a tad bit desperately.

Tael chomped on his hamburger and looked around, the clustered bodies next to him bumping shoulders. "Sorry, Zelda. There isn't any room."

"Oh, yeah, yeah," I nodded, feeling as if my head would roll of my shoulders right then and there. "Yeah, I didn't realize that. Sorry for–sorry for disturbing you—"

"It's all right—"

Their apologies are drowned out in the chatter of the cafeteria as I leave the scene with trembling legs and a red face. I know where I'm going to go. They always do this to the losers in movies, so don't I belong there? At lunch? Alone? With an odious stench?

Calmly, I settled down onto the toilet with the seat down and the tray of food on my lap. I bit into the soggy sandwich, tasting nothing at all. My sore throat swallowed the bland chunks and suddenly I'm crying. Was it because of my silly notion of trying to befriend people? That it can never become a reality? Or was it because the overwhelming school environment was slowly killing me inside?

I sighed and angrily wiped the tears away. Lunchtime was almost and I have to prepare for my next classes.

I walked out of the stall with tray in hand, throwing its contents into the trashcan. I was about to leave until I spotted myself in the mirror, flushed cheeks and all. I looked terrible. And no matter how much water I splashed onto my face, none of the angry red tear streaks will go away.

"Mr. Dampé is _so _weird! Who has their ex-wife buried in their backyard?"

"I know, it's such a—"

Suddenly, they stopped and stared at me, their arms limp. Only their eyes were animated as they widened in surprise.

"Hi—" Roza began. Her speech was abruptly halted as Lysa's elbow nudged her ribs.

"Hi," I sniffed. Then, realizing that it was them, I take the tray and leave the awkward situation before it turned uglier.

I wandered the halls, going up and down the stairs, wondering where the cafeteria was. It was funny, I was only there a second ago, and now I didn't even know where it was. It would be easy to ask someone, but I was too shy to do that, and besides, what if they didn't know where it was like me?

"What do you think you're doing?" a lady screamed at me. Judging by her formal attire of a modest suit and tie, I guessed she was a teacher.

"Re–returning this to the cafeteria?" I questioned, thinking that it was a good thing to do at the time.

Obviously not, as the lady's nostrils flared.

"No food in the halls! You'll be having _detention _after school."

"But–but it's empty, and I—"

"It's only half an hour. It's not much. Take your things after school and head to room 115." She wrote furiously on a notepad. Expertly, she put the pen behind her ear and stuffed the notepad into her suit pocket, all in one swift movement. She marched off as she left me there staring idiotically at the piece of writing she gave me.

_Student found with lunch tray in halls _was the only comment. I touched the school's sigil, my fingers brushing against the smooth script with the name _Zelda _on it. She didn't even know my name although I had my nametag right above the school's sigil.

When school was finally over, I went over to room 115, which took me a substantial amount of time since the school was so freaking huge.

"You're late," the teacher on supervision said. He glanced at me with a glare along with the rest of the first-day students on detention. "I hope you won't be a regular like these guys."

"I–I won't, you can count on it," I mumbled, handing him the detention slip.

"Yeah, yeah, kid. Just take a seat and do your time."

"I'm Zel—"

"Take. A. Seat. And do. Your time."

Wordlessly, I sat at the back of the room and put my head on the desk, covering it with my arms. And all I could think about was the nameless detention slip. Would I be nameless forever?


	3. Chapter 3: Arrival

**~ 3 ~**

**Arrival**

**~ o ~**

* * *

"You ready, Zel?"

Groggily, I wake up to the light of dawn through the window. Mom's nudging at my blanket, urging me to get out of the discomfort of my air mattress.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, slipping out of bed. I pick up the bundle of clothes I left on the floor before packing. "What time is it?"

"It's six. We'll have breakfast at Tingle's."

"The horrible fast food restaurant?"

"Yeah, that one."

I groan. I've never liked eating greasy, deep-fried things from Tingle's. It upsets my stomach and I feel like gagging each time I even _smell_ the oily cheeseburgers and fries from Tingle's. I don't complain, though. Tingle's is basically the only option of food for road trips.

Don't get me wrong or anything. I _love _road trips. It's like watching a slideshow of Hyrule's beautiful scenery along the roads, watching the trees zoom pass and transform into a roadside town with quaint gas stations and shabby motels. But to me, it's more like an oddly realistic dream with the windows wide open, the wind tickling your hair around your face until it gets all tangled beyond repair. I love the feeling of the sun through the windows, soaking through my skin and my eyes.

Riding along a road is a weird way of acquiring some much-needed family bonding time between two parents who live for their jobs. I love how Mom and Dad talk and laugh with me through the whole ride and occasionally we slip into silence as the wind rushes through the windows. Most of all, I love napping beneath the window so all that remains in my small world are the car seats before me, my parents' hushed voices and the wind currents above. I can feel them indirectly, but they never swoop below and make me shiver from its coldness.

Compared with my likes of the car rides to Tingle's fattening and sickly superficial burgers, it's one minor drawback I can live with and not complain about.

"You got everything?" Mom peeks through the door.

"How long is the ride?"

"Only two hours. Not that long."

"Will you be telling where we'll be going?"

"Nope, not yet! It's a surprise. You're going to _love _it."

The sunrises over the bay as we drive pass the town I grew up in. Lush trees shadow the quaint tourist shops and their cobblestoned sidewalks. Everywhere about, there are people walking around, some couples, some families, and a few groups of teenagers passing the time. Among them I catch the coppery hair of Shad. It glistens and looks more orange in the reviving sunlight and his smile is broad as he talks and walks with a tourist in a tropical print top with hideous Velcro sandals. For a second, they look at our passing car. And, in the heat of the moment, I raise my hand and give a little wave.

They do not wave back.

"When are we out of here?" I mutter, sinking my back into the seat of the car, "I can't wait to see this new house."

"It's not really a house, more of a—"

Mom casts a quick, irritated look at Dad and his mouth clamps down.

"You'll see it when we get there," Dad corrects himself, chuckling at Mom's antics.

"That's what you keep saying," I mumble.

They say nothing else and leave me alone, and together, we enjoy the silence. Dad is checking his phone for anything at work. He's always a busy man, being in politics and such, and Mom, being a workaholic herself, just _had _to marry her co-worker. So, most of the time, our family conversations consist of those two talking about their business affairs, with me occasionally eavesdropping and kind of (but not really) understanding their talks. Most of it is boring stuff like how to propose acts and new laws in Hyrule and how to convince King Gustaf to pass them.

Finally, Dad drives up into the drive thru of Tingle's. An unenthused voice cracks out of the speaker by the billboard advertising cheap foods.

"Tingle, Tingle. Kooloo-Limpah. How may we take your order?"

"Zel? Impa?"

"The Tingle Salad with a side of apples," I say.

The kid on the speaker laughs. "That stuff is shi—"

"The Kooloo Morning Special," Mom responds.

"—hardly a salad at all," the kid finishes.

"Two Kooloo Morning Specials," Dad repeats.

The kid shuts up and tells us the total. We drive to the front and do the exchange of money for food. Slowly, the odour of boiled in oil hash browns, eggs and pancakes float into the air and I gag.

"Sorry. Food is food and your mother and I don't like salad!" Dad says. He rolls up his window and drives onwards.

Mom takes a huge bite into her egg sandwich. "You gonna wait until later to eat?"

"No," I say, peeling off the salad's lid. "Demise's fury, he forgot the fork!"

"You want us to drive back?"

"No, I'm okay. I'll just eat without any dressing," I respond. I don't want to waste any more time and can't wait to get to our new home.

Reluctantly, I eat as much salad as I can with my fingers, the drab taste having no crunch of a lively, healthy, fresh salad should have. I drown out the nasty aftertaste with the apples, but that doesn't do much better as there isn't any sweetness or crunch to them either. So, I unscrew the top off the water bottle and drink it without a second's notice.

Slinking further into my seat, I look out the window with an expression of boredom. Right now we're passing a long line of trees. Everywhere it's all a green blur and nothing else. It'll probably be like that for the rest of the ride as Hylia Hills is nestled in nature.

For the remainder of the trip, I drift off into a dreamless sleep with the windows rolled down. When I awake, the car has stopped and Mom and Dad are unbuckling their seatbelts.

"Time to take flight, Zel!" Mom cheers.

"What? We're not there yet? I didn't even get to see anything—"

"Car trips aren't a leisurely stroll. It eventually stops," Dad says. "And our destination is the airport, and after the plane lands, we got another twenty minutes to drive to the cas—I mean, home."

Mom gives Dad another please-shut-up-look as she unloads our minimum baggage.

"Oops. Sorry, honey," Dad laughs at his own mistake.

"Quite all right, Daphnes."

"Phew," he says to me, wiping sweat off his brow, "I thought she was going to kill me."

"She's already done that thrice," I add, getting down from the car. My legs feel lethargic and weak as I stand on the gravel. "Remember that one time when you ruined the soufflé for Christmas? And then the time when you brought me a piano when I only wanted a harp?"

"Hey!" he smiles, closing the trunk door. "I thought the piano _was _a harp."

"That's sort of true," Mom adds, "since a piano actually has a harp in it."

Dad's hand lands on Mom's shoulder playfully. "Too bad you didn't know that at the time."

"Yeah, she would've gone easier on you," I chuckle.

"Perhaps," Mom agrees.

All three of us walk out under the morning sky—which is a bright blue with zero clouds blotting it. The sun glares down at me, and suddenly I'm feeling hot and sweaty as we make our way to the airport's entrance. There are cars parked, people banging shut their doors, people taking out luggage, and people walking with luggage. Then realization dawns on me. We're at an airport. With planes. And planes fly high into the sky. I grasp down onto my pale frock, wiping down my sweaty hands furiously. I try to ignore this obvious fact by asking stupid questions.

"Where are the packed trucks if we're taking a plane?"

"They're driving to Castleton. We have to live there for a day without any furniture. Good thing I packed us a suitcase!" Mom smiles.

"So, what class are we flying on?"

"Private jet," she says nonchalantly.

My legs stop walking and my parents go on without me, not noticing that I'm in absolute shock.

"Private _jet?"_ I finally sputter out. Mom and Dad turn to me. "Why the private jet? I mean, we could've just gone on first class like normal people."

"Well…" Dad starts. "You see, you have this _condition."_

Oh, right. My social anxiety.

"Honey!" Mom barks. "We thought flying privately will help with your height phobia," she says to me sweetly.

"Acrophobia," I correct automatically, hoping to ease my beating heart.

Once the big moment arrives, my legs falter beneath the heaviness of my body. I'm climbing the steps up to the plane's door and I'm afraid I might tumble and create a dominoes effect to my parents below.

"C'mon, hon. It's not so hard. You're almost there," one of them says. Their voice is hazy as if they're speaking from the end of an extremely long tunnel.

I can't think correctly. I can't even breathe properly or see anything beyond the black fuzzy dots forming before my eyes. Suddenly, I'm sitting down onto a comfortable seat and there's a small TV in front of me. It turns on and a cartoon of a hero saving a princess plays. I gulp dryly.

"How long did you say this flight is?" I can barely recognize my own voice. It doesn't sound at all like me, it doesn't sound like it's coming _from _me.

"You look pale," someone says, and a cool hand is placed on my cheek. "Do you want sleeping pills? For the flight?"

"Yes! Give me a horse tranquilizer for all I care!" I say loudly. My hand desperately reaches for the cup of water hovering before me. The pill is placed on my other hand and I quickly put into my mouth and gulp the water greedily.

"Don't tell the guy to go until I'm conked out," I try to shout but it comes out as a mumble. "I don't think this thing's going to work at all…"

My eyes are heavy and, all at once, I'm asleep.

.

Hushed voices murmur to each other. I'm lying on my side in the car. Groggily, I place my hands below me as I lift myself into a seating position. A dull throbbing emits within my head. I place a hand to my temple, hoping to ease the pain.

"How long was I out for?" I mumble.

"Exactly two hours and," Dad checks his wrist watch, "fifteen minutes."

I flinch at his apparel across from me, thinking that it's someone else. He's changed into a black suit with expensive sunglasses perched on his ski-slope nose. Mom is beside him, wearing a very elegant light blue skirt and suit jacket. A sun hat is on her head with the insignia of the royal family. A crimson loftwing is about to take flight off of her hat.

"Why the sudden change?" I ask. Then I look left and right, amazed at the length of the car. "We're in a limo," I say stupidly. "Wait…if you're there, and she's right next to you, and I'm here, then who's driving?"

"A dog," Dad chuckles.

"Nonsense. A chauffeur is driving us."

"Why is everything so fancy? Your outfits, the random guy driving, the limo…?" I trail off.

"We're very important persons," Mom says, her voice indicating to leave the topic alone.

I want to yell at them for their ridiculous secretiveness but I don't. Instead, I look out the window to find out exactly where we are since they won't tell me anything. We're riding down a bumpy road and everywhere there are buildings side by side. They aren't very tall and each house as a unique look to it despite their similar shapes. One building has a clothing store at the bottom, its still mannequins donning elaborate wedding dresses of pinks, reds, and the softest whites. Above, a lady sews a brilliant blue dress in a window. Another building is peculiar with a spiral staircase leading directly to the second floor. The first floor has no door but a window with ominous black curtains. Luckily, the second floor displays bold flowers and bird cages just as colourful. More houses pass, and I begin to realize that each house has a business associated with it on any floor. A pottery shop, a costume store, a store for parties and a place to eat. I gasp in awe at the beautifulness of the place, how each individual building, though similar, are unique in their own ways.

"We're in a city!" I exclaim. I lean my face forward out of the window, my nose and hands sticking to the glass.

"Uh huh…" Mom answers.

"Is it Zora? The water paradise?" I ask as a white and blue stucco building zooms by. A Zora lies on a sun chair in her swimsuit, sunbathing.

"Nope."

A man in traditional knight's clothing walks down the street, the trees shade shielding him from the sun's glare. "New Skyloft?"

"No…"

I rack my brain for more province capitals. "Kakariko Ville?"

"Death Mountain's nowhere to be seen," Dad comments.

If it's none of those, then what is it…? I sigh, placing my elbow on the window's ledge. I watch as a redheaded fellow walks his two dogs, each of them playfully nipping at the leashes.

_I live in Castleton, the majestic and beautiful city._

The memory of my conversation with Shad jolts me upright. "Castleton?!"

"Yes—"

"YES!" I shout, my arms pumping into the air and my hair flying around. "This is amazing! I've always wanted to live in Castleton. Such beautiful history, beautiful sites, beautiful people where all different cultures come together in celebration of history—"

"Do you think we should tell her ahead of time?" Mom asks Dad. It isn't meant for my ears but I hear them nonetheless. And, judging by their shocked expressions they're giving me, they know I heard them.

"Tell me what?"

The driver turns around the corner and my body lurches to the right.

"Uh," he begins.

"Too late now. Zelda, look!"

I lean onto the window. Everywhere, there are people lining the street, everyone cheering and holding signs and waving. They're shouting jovially and grinning.

"What the frack?" I say, bewildered. I turn to my tight-lipped parents. "Why are there so many people here? Is there a parade happening?"

"No…"

I take a closer look, narrowing my eyes. A woman holds up a wobbly sign and I feel like I should shout at her to stop waving it around like a maniac so I can see what it says. Finally, through multiple times of trying to read the purple blurb of text, I read it: _The Nohansens are back!_

What in the world does _that _mean?

Mom places her hand onto my knee. "Sweetie, you see…" she begins. I continue to ignore her as I look out the window. If I tilt my head a little bit I can see a large wall with stones of ivory and light grey.

"Is that…" I gulp, "is that Hyrule Castle? Are we _driving _there? Are we _LIVING _there?" I shout, my eyes widening at the wall of splendor.

"Yes," Dad adds.

I stare directly at him, feeling my brows rise in confusion. This has got to be a joke. Only the king can live there, and last time I checked, Dad was no king. "Are you the new king or something? Because only the king can live in Hyrule Castle," I speak aloud, watching the crowd chant "long live the new king!" I look closer and see more posters with poorly drawn crowns and a picture of Dad and Mom smiling.

"Yup. That's me. I'm the new king," he says, shrugging his shoulders like it's no big deal when really it _is _a big deal.

"If _you're_ king, then that makes me…"

"A princess!" Mom completes.

"Princess Zelda," Dad says calmly, smiling, "I like that. It has a nice ring to it."


	4. Chapter 4: Princess's Quarters

**~ 4 ~**

**Princess's Quarters**

**~ o ~**

* * *

The limo enters the gates of the castle and people are still cheering outside. I barely notice anything at all but the beating of my heart and my shallow breaths.

"Me? _A princess?" _I exclaim.

Dad and Mom are nodding with great big smiles spread across their cheeks. They think I'm thrilled to be a princess. Part of me is, but another part of me is worrying drastically. Call me a scaredy-cat, but doesn't that mean I might be assassinated? That I'll have to go to many social events with my parents, the new king and queen of Hyrule? I gulp and smile back at them, pretending that I'm happy and everything is just sunshine and rainbows.

"That's awesome!" I finally spit out, putting on a grin on my face that wants to fall off. I fight it back and my cheeks quiver. A tiny voice at the back of my head is telling me to stop faking it, that I should tell the truth before all of it gets out of hand later on. Reluctantly, I burst out, "actually, it's not really awesome if you think about it…" I twist my fingers together, "the thing is, I don't _want _to be a princess and go to parties and events. I'd rather be a normal girl like before."

I immediately feel guilty thereafter. Their smiles loosen but tighten once again like elastic.

"It's fine," Mom says. I can tell she's disappointed, that she thought I'd be bursting with joy and excitement at the big news she's been restraining all this time.

"I still think it's awesome!" I insist, trying to clear the confusion of my mixed feelings.

The limo stops. Dad clears his throat.

"If you want to be normal, then don't come out of the limo. The driver will drop you off at the back."

"We'll try to keep your identity a secret… it'll be hard." Mom kisses my cheek gently. "But we'll think of something."

As they get out, I hear Dad hiss at Mom.

"See?" he says among the flashes of lights from the cameras. "I told you so."

The anger on his face wipes down as they resume their political smiles. Mom's expression is one of calm composure, not wanting to attract any publicity.

The dark pane slides down and the driver stares at me with an inquisitive look on his tanned face. "Where do you want to go?" he asks.

"The back, I guess," I say glumly.

The ride to the back is longer than I would have expected, meaning that the castle is _huge. _No surprise there, considering that it is, after all, a castle.

As we drive pass large windows and the occasionally decorative stained glass window, I feel my eyes gradually widen in delight as I take in the whole grandeur of the castle's outside. I can only imagine what the inside is like. Probably fancy with high walls and domed ceilings with beautiful intricate architecture in every nook and cranny. I'm so excited, I squirm in my seat.

"I still can't believe I'm here," I murmur to the glass window that's stuck to my face. The driver doesn't even hear me, and I feel a little crazy talking to myself, so I shut up, rip my face off the window, and sit and wait for the limo to stop.

"The old servant's quarters," the limo driver says as he opens the door for me.

I take his hand and step out, still looking around and admiring everything. We're in view of a door painted a brilliant blue elevated by stone steps. Vines crawl up the granite walls and sprout roses in bloom. Even if it's the back of the castle where public eye can't see, it still looks like a fairy-tale come to life.

"If you want, I can show you around the castle. I'm not only a limo driver, you know? I'm also a tour guide!"

"Sure," I say, slightly surprised as he sticks out his hand. I slap it, thinking that it's a high-five. But after he withdraws his outstretched hand, I realize that it wasn't a high-five at all but a handshake.

He puts his hand by his side as if that awkward encounter didn't happen at all and smiles. "I'm Link Wolff."

"Hi, Link. I'm Zelda Nohansen," I say quickly, turning around so he can't see the red creeping up my neck. I almost dash into the brilliant blue door.

"Hey! You gotta open it first," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. I step aside, even more embarrassed, as he opens it with a key. He takes forever, and I feel like melting right there onto the floor so I can disappear from his sight. That handshaking incident is making me angry at myself, and I'm lost in my ranting thoughts until Link taps me on the shoulder.

"Huh?" I say. "Huh?"

"There's another secret door than this one. Wanna go check it out?"

"Y-yeah!"

I walk behind him at a safe distance so I won't step on the back of his heels, which is a common habit of mine since I never watch where I'm going. As I'm watching his hairy (but muscular) calves, he stops in his tracks and I almost crash into him.

"All right!" he says with a chirpy tone reserved for strangers. "It's just under this bushes." He bends down and starts rustling the flora.

"You sure that's a discreet passageway?" I ask.

"It hides it, so yeah?" he replies. He walks forward and drops down so quick that he disappears from sight.

Panicked at his sudden leave, I walk to where he was seconds ago and peer down the hole he jumped into. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah! Just a tiny fall." He looks up, shielding the sun with his hand. He's standing in a small space in the ground. All around him are stone walls and empty torches. I take in a breath. It looks like a small dungeon! "Where does it lead?"

"The dungeons." He cracks a wide grin.

"Really?" I almost screech with joy.

He laughs. "No. It's just an underground passage that leads directly to the hall of the princess's quarters. There's also one for the king and queen. Strangely enough, they were used in the Twilight Era—"

"As escape routes for the royal family!" I pump my fist in the air, enthused by the trivia.

A look of astonishment passes over him. It changes into a face of joy with a broad grin and brightened eyes. "I see we have a classics junkie here!" he remarks. "Those are pretty rare these days."

"Yup. I got the history reward for every grade I was in." I nod triumphantly.

"Well, Miss Awesome Sauce, you better jump down before the gardener sees you. Unfortunately, he won't be as impressed as me for your awesome skills in the ways of history."

"Right," I say, smile slightly fading. Once again, I stare down into the pit and my stomach does ten belly-flops inside itself. I take a step back. "Uh, actually . . . let's go to the blue door, shall we?"

"What? Why?"

"Well, you see . . ."I begin, "Even if it's only seven feet, I'm terribly afraid of heights. I can't even stand on a stool!"

"That sucks," he comments, "for trying to get out-of-reach objects."

"That it does," I say, twining my hands together. "Can't you climb up?"

"Can't you climb down?"

"Is there a ladder?"

"Yeah, but ladders suck the fun out of everything."

"You'll see soon enough that I'm a pretty boring person."

"Aw, don't say that. I hardly know you."

I gulp. "Did you say there was a ladder?"

"Yes," he says, "I can place my hands on it if you're afraid it'll tip."

"Then I shall climb down the ladder. It's not that bad, right?"

"Not bad at all!"

With his reassurance in hand, I manage to climb down with shaky hands, legs and feet until the ground is right below me. With a sigh of relief, I give a trembling smile and dust off my hands.

"See? Mind over matter," he says.

"Oh, yes. I see that now and I'm glad I did it. It wasn't bad at all."

"Your mind's just playing tricks on you."

I follow him as he leads the way into a dark tunnel. Extinguished torches align the dark, curved walls that lurch out at us like monsters in the shadows. I walk a little closer to him.

"This is a bit creepy, yeah?"

"This passage also leads to the dungeons further below the ground. It's actually a popular tourist attraction."

"Yeah, people have an instinctual desire for the morbid due to the survival of the fittest ideology."

"Once again, an impressive insight."

I smile. I'm beginning to like this guy. Wanting to gain more praise, I offer another comment: "I'm pretty sure these tunnels connect to the dungeons. I heard the Hero of Twilight met the Twilight Princess down there."

"You may be right," Link replies, and then he stops in front of a . . . dead end? Oh, goddesses _no! _What if this guy's a serial killer?! "All right, lady's first," he says, and then he places his hand far above his head. Thinking that it's meant to be a fatal blow, I flinch back and squeeze my eyes, praying that it won't hurt and that it'll be a quick and painless death. And then . . .

I don't feel something hard against my head. In fact, nothing happens. Wearily, I peek an eye open and see a very confused-looking Link. He makes a _what-in-Hyrule-are-you-doing? _face.

His expression changes into one of sadness. "Aww!" he says, "you didn't get to see the awesome door opening trick!"

"What awesome door opening trick?"

Link moves aside and does a little wave with his arms to signify a _ta-da! _moment. Blankly, I stare into the black hole he's pointing to. Funnily enough, my eyes haven't even adjusted to the darkness yet.

"Um, what am I supposed to be staring at?"

"It's a secret passage," he says with triumphant. "Here, I'll show you."

His hand reaches into the air again (and this time I don't flinch) to push a crooked torch up. It creaks and groans until he manages a great shove. It forces the torch to click in place and the wall covers up the black hole.

"Whoa!" I cry out in shock. "That's so cool! Here, let me try."

I go to the magical torch and look up at it with determination set in my face. "So I just pull it down, yeah?"

"Yup."

With difficulty, I heave all my body into pulling that torch down. It creaks and gives into my weight. A draft is felt to my left and I turn to see the gaping mouth of the black hole.

"All right, watch your step. The lights are out."

"Can't you just install electric lights out here?"

"It'll get rid of the historical feel. Besides, tourists love this type of stuff!"

We walk—well, _stumble—_up the steps very slowly. I stretch my hands and use the walls as a guide in the darkness.

"How long is this exactly?"

"Just twenty steps. And another secret passage."

Link stops in front of me and I almost bang into his behind.

"Sorry!" he calls, and then he's reaching high up again. With another click, a rectangular shape of light appears before us. Link and I step into the light. It's so bright that I raise a hand in defense against its brilliant shine.

"That was quick." All around us is a long hallway with gold and white paneled walls. Expensive looking surfaces, vases, flowers, little trinkets, and paintings adorn the hallway.

Link starts to walk and I follow him. "We still repair all the secret passages. Except those pesky torches!"

"I doubt anyone uses that passage," I say.

"Yeah, King Gustaf didn't have any daughters—well, it was recently found out he _did _have a daughter who then married, had a son and died. And that kid is the new king."

My hands grow sweaty and tremble. "Oh, yeah?" and then I say to myself, "so _that's _how Dad landed the job."

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing!"

"Hm, well then . . ." He stops in his tracks again. "Here we are, standing in front of a lovely blank wall. If you look closely enough, you'll see a faint rectangular contour. Not very secretive if you can spot that out, huh?"

I nod. "Let me guess, that flower pot over there—which is clearly connected to the wall and not the table—is the key to opening this passage."

"You're a genius!"

"So do I pull, poke, or push it?"

"Uh . . ." His hands begin to fiddle around the ornate pot. After about thirty seconds of harassing it, the wall swings open inwards.

"After this is the princess's quarters—your quarters!" he says with a cheer as we march up the steps.

By this time, I'm panting from all the stairs. "How much longer?"

"Just a little further. Remember, there's a light at the end of that tunnel." Link's got the stamina of a horse as he's practically taking two steps at a time up the stairs. I wonder if he can carry me . . . ?

Finally, we squeeze onto the top step.

"Okay, so for this one—," he says with excited breaths, "is really easy. It's just a tiny button painted the same colour as the walls. You can see it popping out." He points to a circular shape protruding from the beige walls. I poke it and—just like that—the wall opens wide.

"I think I'm getting bored with all the walls opening," I joke.

"There's a fireplace one. I can show it to you later if you'd like."

"Sure—oh my Hylia! This is so beautiful—" I gasp as the sight of the room surrounds me. Like I thought it was, the ceilings are high and the walls grow endlessly into the sky—it feels as if I'm a tiny doll in a giant's castle. Even the bed is humongous. It probably can squeeze in ten people! I jump on its fluffiness, landing softly onto my back, and let the satin sheets encase. It's so soft, it feels like I'm floating in the air and not lying down on a bed.

"Yup, a princess's quarters is bound to be big and beautiful. You've got your private bath and spa to the right over there, and then you have a recently modernized walk-in closet next to it. There's the sitting rooms in that door over there—" he points to the door directly in line with the bed, "and there's also another modernized room for recreational activities. I think your parents emptied it out—"

"Wait . . .!" I spring up with a cry and almost fall off the bed. My hands catch me before the ground makes an introduction to my face. "You know I'm a _princess?" _

"Yup," he nods grandly, and then he bows as if to make a mockery out of me.

"Oh, no!" My hands grip onto my hair. I feel like pulling them out in frustration. "I'm not the new princess. Not at all!"

"Actually, the king and queen told me you're their daughter, so that _does _make you a princess—"

"Well, they lied. Yup, they lied!" I throw hand up in exasperation. Seriously, why'd they tell a stranger such important news before _me_—their daughter?

"Um, okay . . . " he says, obviously feeling awkward.

He doesn't believe me because he's already heard it from Mom and Dad. So I march right up to him, face flaming red from the knowledge of what I'm about to do, and point at him squarely in the nose. "Listen, _Link Wolf, _I may be a princess but that doesn't mean I _want _to be one. So whatever my parents told you, forget it. Pretend I'm not a princess."

He gulps and nods in understanding. "All right, Zelda. You're not a princess."

"And don't you dare tell anyone that I am or else I will do something disastrous to you!"

"All right, all right!" He backs away, hands up in surrender. "Do you want me to go or . . .?"

"That'll be wise of you," I say promptly, coolly crossing my arms although I just want to break down to the floor and scream out in fury. Why are my parents so bad at parenting? _Ugh!_

Before I can attack him or anything, he sprints to the secret passage like he's running away from a banshee. As he runs, I notice something. He's got those tourist sandals I hate so much—the ones with the Velcro straps.

I grin at that, amused at the sight.

Should a limo driver really be wearing such informal things?

* * *

I definitely didn't want to go outside and wander the castle since I was scared out of my pants to be spotted and questioned and then discovered to be Your Royal Highness by any staff members. So, I remained inside the princess's quarters, hoping that Link the Limo Driver would be so kind as to tell Mom and Dad where I was.

While waiting, I walk around the rooms Link spoke of. The walk-in closet is empty, huge and screaming to be filled with clothes, shoes and accessories. Of course I feel like the urge to shop after seeing such empty space. Back in Hylia Hills, I had little closet with measly clothes that gathered dust, and I guarantee that there'd be more dust gathering in this closet with so much space to fit clothes that could serve an army.

I venture into a door that leads directly to the bathroom. It was another huge room, spacious with a blue and white colour scheme to make it look like it belonged underwater in Zora's Domain. To the side of the room is a large whirlpool bathtub sunk to the ground. Separately, a pristine shower lingers by. There are a variety of knobs to twist and turn that I grow dizzy just looking at it. There were more doors strewn across one side of the room. I open them and discover a room to serve a toilet. The other door leads to a closet, which doesn't make sense because I already had a walk-in closet. I guess towels are supposed to go there.

At the other side of the room are a line of counters and two sinks with a futuristic mirror hovering up. Opposite of the walk-in closet door is a window seat. There are no curtains, but the windows themselves are blurred to offer some privacy.

I look around the barebones bathroom. It isn't decorated that much. I suppose Mom wanted me to design and personalize the princess's quarters myself.

With I sigh, I exit. I personally like that old-time look and would've liked to see what the bathroom looked like before they renovated it. Oh, well. There's plenty of untouched rooms in the castle to see.

Just as I am entering the sitting rooms, my parents burst through the doors with panicked expressions.

"Oh, Zelda—!" Dad grabs me by the shoulders, "_there _you are. We were worried that you ran away."

"Only an idiot would do that."

Mom shoves Dad aside and rushes forth, cupping my chin with her cold hand. "Honey! I'm so sorry." She rubs my shoulders to soothe me, as if I've been wounded and crying, when really I think I've toughened myself up a bit by not whining about the whole situation. "I was so sure you'd be excited."

"I am, Mom," I say calmly. "I just don't want to be a princess . . . yet."

Mom's face brightens and confusion passes over Dad's. "Yet?" they both say at the same time.

"Yes," I reply, "I mean, this will be a dream job of mine. I like history, I like classics, I love the Hylian language, and let me tell you, I can be poised if I learn how to do it."

"What about law?"

"Law is a part of history. I love law," I comment.

"But you need to interact with people," Mom starts.

"Okay, Mom," I answer, "I already know that. So that's why I want you guys to enlist me into some therapy of some sort. Kapeesh?"

"If you're going to be queen, why not announce yourself as princess?"

"I don't want to make a fool of myself. I'm hoping to get better at the social aspect of it."

"Oh, I understand now. You want to make a grand impression once you get the hang of being a princess?"

"Yup," I say. "Let's have a little discussion." I lead them into the sitting rooms. I take a seat in an oversized, overstuffed pastel pink couch. Mom and Dad sit opposite of me. And Dad, forever the dork, places his feet on the shiny surface of the mahogany coffee table.

"So, tell me . . . why in Hyrule didn't you tell me the big news?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise! It _was _a surprise for your father, too. The lost king's grandson? Who knew!" Mom answers.

"Impa, do you know what we're going to do to hide Zelda's identity?"

"I'm not sure," she responds, "I think we _might_ have to bring in a publicist we can trust to keep her royal status a secret."

"Don't get me wrong—I _do _want to inherit the throne."

"Of course! That isn't an option anyways," Dad pipes up. "You think _I _want to be the king of Hyrule?"

Mom shakes her head sadly. "You've always loved the royal family only to know that _you're _the royal family."

"Do you know any publicists you can trust, Mom?"

"Yup, I know many. How do you think I got King Gustaf out of that hot scandal from him sleeping with all those ladies?"

Dad waits for it and says, "I hired Auru!" at the same time as Mom.

What? Auru? Why does it sound like . . . "You mean Rauru the butler?" I mention.

"No! His son, Auru."

"Oh."

"He's so good at his job. He'll definitely keep your royal status under the rug," Dad winks, "so, Zel, your parent-teacher interviews are going to be one heck of a trouble—"

"Maybe we should continue this when Auru's here," Mom cuts in.

"Agreed."

"All right. That's a wrap. Zelda, you coming to dinner?"

"Mom!" I shout with worry. "I can't. I'm a secret, remember?"

"Hm? Oh right, right," she nods, and then she springs up onto her feet and grins broadly. "We'll bring dinner to your room. All right, dear?"

"Oh, great. Stuck inside a bedroom when there's a castle to be explored."

Dad places a hand on my head and messes up my hair. "It's all right, kiddo. Your princess-in-training curriculum will whip you into queen material in no time."

I sigh. "Just make sure I get some really good professionals, huh?"

Dad smiles. "Look at that! The demands of a princess."


End file.
